Stories play in my mind. Their characters are imprisoned and dying to get out. The great commission beckons me, daily life stories burden me, fictional escapades entice me. Incase I have not said it before, I really should be writing.
The sounds rose and were carried by the wind. Shouts of delight, squeals of whimsy, and roars of excitement danced about on the breeze. The trees rested quietly. All was peaceful save the occasional guest that blew through and caused the leaves to rustle and contort. Patches of sunlight penetrated the branches of the canopy and bounced along the ground. Small feet pounded against the earth like tiny hearts in little chests. The game was afoot.
1 Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. 2 This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him." 3 Jesus answered him, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God." 4 Nicodemus said to him, "How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother's womb and be born?" 5 Jesus answered, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. 6 That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. 7 Do not marvel that I said to you, 'You must be born again.' (John 3:1-7. ESV.)
And there is so much more that remains to be said…
Yet, my Psychology paper is taunting me.
Who has the energy to sleep, I’d much rather be writing.